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Reforged pt 9

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The armory was easily half-again as large as the storage room, resembling a long, broad hallway. It had one other exit on its far side and a tall, stalwart-looking weapon and armor wrack splitting it down the center. Chests and crates lined the walls with an exceptionally large chest flanking the far side door to its right, and an equally large crate on the left. What really caught Arthur's attention, however, was the large book stand with a tome perched upon it to the left of the crate.

Lucas, who had started back the tunnel from which the group had come, called back over his shoulder. "Hey... Was there a flowing green mist in this room when we came through the first time?"

Harold was lingering by one of the other doors in the supply room and trotted across the way to join the Kobold back down the other hall. A moment later the Gnoll's voice announced "Yep... that's definitely 'flowing green mist'... and I am not happy right now."

Orvig gestured to the door opposite the hall the two brothers had taken. "We have an exit to the outside right here; it leads to the wagon house."

Peter went into the armory as Arthur went back to assess the situation. Glancing down the hallway from which Lucas and Harold were coming back, the blacksmith asked "If we can't see color in the dark then how do you know it's-- oh."

Exactly as his sons had said, not only was it green mist, but it was glowing; the entire main hall was illuminated as the pooling fog covered everything in a haze, illuminating it ominously with a baleful hue. Arthur turned back toward the armory. "Get what you're looking for-- we can't stay long."

Lucas glances toward the armory and his face lit up immediately. "Ooh... book."

For as long as the blacksmith could remember, his youngest son had always enjoyed reading and, despite numerous attempts to teach Peter and Harold, it was Lucas who remained the best at it, and needed very little coaching. Harold followed after the Kobold. "Just be quick... I wanna get outta here before we learn what that glowy stuff does."

Remaining at the doorway to the armory, Arthur played overseer as Lucas pulled the tome off the stand and Harold helped him tie it around his back like a backpack. Peter claimed a shield from the rack while Orvig passed them all and moved up to rest a hand on the double-doors leading elsewhere. "Beyond these doors lays the crypt. The Aslers have called this land home for six generations... The entire family has been laid to rest here."

Recalling the roiling fog, Arthur made his decision promptly. "Orvig... we must be exercise caution. We don't know what is down here yet but we know it's dangerous. We can come back for your heirlooms."

The Orc glanced back toward the blacksmith, indecision clearly on his face. "But... if the wizard... or looters..."

The Human shook his head, the choice resonating even more strongly within him. "No... if the wizard wanted anything he would have taken it with im... and the looters would have just as much trouble with the undead as we will. Let's regroup, and we can plan something much more effective than charging blindly into danger."

Orvig kept his gauntleted hand on the door for a moment longer then slowly lowered his head before drawing back. "You are right, Arthur... of course. Temperance and discretion... but I will be back."

As the Orc walked reluctantly past him, the blacksmith reached out a hand and rested it on the knight's pauldron. "And when you do, I still plan to keep my promise. I will be here to help you."

The sound of a rusty hinge giving way back from within the storage room caught Arthur's attention and he continued turning until he was facing it; he froze. The door on the far side of the room swung open, revealing a collection of skeletons comingled with cat-sized spiders that appeared to be comprised of bones. Peter, who had his back to the scene, faced his father. "So... we will NOT be going into the crypt?"

No sooner had the question been asked than several searing bolts of magical force shot into the room from beyond the open door and struck the minotaur in the back. Although Arthur couldn't see the impact on the opposite side of his son he winced at the sound and Peter stumbled from the obvious power of the attack.

Orvig was the first to respond, stepping immediately to provide cover to the minotaur, raising his shield as he readied his sword, which glowed a soft, dull white. "To arms! We are not out of this place yet."

Creating a joined front against the nasty creatures, Arthur stepped up to join them, taking position next to Peter. "Lucas! Harold! Trouble!"

Harold's voice spoke up from right behind him, along with the straining of a bow string. "On it, Dad."

The three skeletons closest to the door stumbled into the room, quickly closing the distance. Two lunged forward at Peter and one brought the fight to Orvig but, in unison, the Minotaur and Orc met them with shields, forcing them back. Their counter-attacks down two of the foes, decimating the enemy's front lines, but opening the way for the eerie, spider-like skeletal constructs.

Four of them skittered into the room on pointy bony legs. The first three sprang upon Peter, stabbing at him with their limbs and biting at him with their fangs. Arthur didn't manage to keep track beyond that as he had to fend one back with two swings of his hammer to keep it from doing the same to him, following it up with a powerful strike against the last skeleton, crushing its skull and causing it to fall to the floor, unmoving. He called out again as he pushed it back. "Lucas!"

The rummaging around in the armory continued. "Almost done, Dad! Be right there!"

Harold let out a gasp a split-second before his bow twanged and the arrow flew wide, breaking on the wall next to the doorway. The Gnoll barked out "It-- it looks like DAD!"

Almost as if the statement heralded its return, Arthur felt the same foreboding, ominous presence he had scarcely a few minutes prior, and he couldn't help but imagine that it almost seemed like it was looking for him; it was the predator and he was the prey. The shudders, shivers, and fur-on-end from those around him reinforced the thought that he wasn't alone in sensing it, as did Peter's statement "Something here is very wrong."

A dark shape in the hallway through the door shuffled a little closer and Arthur saw a skeletal hand reach out, gesturing in a grasping motion to the Minotaur; a moment later the blacksmith's eldest son let out a strangled cry and his body went tense. Peter grit his teeth, then, snorting powerfully, extended his limbs as if breaking unseen chains, growling as he did so. "It has magic!"

Lucas shouted out words of power from behind the group and Arthur recoiled as four bolts of magical energy raced past him; two collided with two different spiders each, pushing them back from the front line and leaving one with two less legs. They were not dissuaded, however, and they joined the other two in rushing forward again to attack: two on Peter and one each on Orvig and Arthur himself. Although the Minotaur and Orc both fended their respective attackers back the blacksmith's opponent latched onto his arm, biting down painfully with its savage fangs, and he felt a fiery numbness enter his veins.

A powerful impact from Harold's bow knocked the skeletal spider away, freeing Arthur from the thing's bite. The Gnoll then stepped to the side, knocked an arrow, and aimed for the hallway. As with before, he pulled his shot at the last second, hitting the roof instead. Growling out in frustration, Harold objected "It looked like Peter this time! What in Kord's sweaty nut-sack is going on?!?!"

Peter crushed one of the spiders beneath his massive hoof, accentuating the crushing blow with a bellowed "LANGUAGE!"

Orvig stepped in, swinging his sword so that it deftly cleaved one in half, leaving just two remaining. The blacksmith stepped up, bringing his war hammer down in a powerful, overhand bash. While the strike knocked several legs off, the undead arachnid rose up on the four remaining and turned, bearing its fangs at the Human-- then was promptly blown to bits as Lucas aimed four more bolts of magical energy at it. "Got it, Dad!"

The final spider sprang upward, going straight for Peter's throat; the Minotaur was so distracted by the wound Arthur had received that he didn't manage to defend himself in time. Although it sunk its front legs and fangs into his neck, Peter was able to reach up and tear it free with no great trouble, growling as he did so. "You blasted abomination, I--" But his statement ended abruptly.

Arthur pushed the last spider back with a shove from the head of his war hammer and hazarded a glace toward his eldest son; Peter stood as if in a daze, staring blankly at the spindly undead horror emerging from the side passage. The shadows seemed to weave around it, flowing like silk draped across its body, keeping its face mostly hidden from view, all except for two pinpoints of red light. As it approached him it reached out a desiccated hand, hooked, skeletal digits capped with nasty looking, crusty claws.

The blacksmith went to aid his son, but was intercepted by the spider, which gnashed and slashed at him, forcing him away. Harold, standing just behind and to the side of Arthur didn't have the problem of limited range, and loosed two arrows, one after another into the malevolent thing, but it didn't so much as react, focused wholly on the Minotaur. As it drew even nearer, a hollow, unearthly voice wheezed out from its teeth. "Oh, my darling son... come to your father."

Peter dropped his sword, doing as it demanded. He trudged several steps toward it, as if in a daze, murmuring numbly. "Daddy?"

Arthur watched in horror as the corpse wrapped its arms around his son and stood in shock as its withered lips pressed to the Minotaur's eager lips. The gesture of affection was far more intimate and far more insistent than anything the blacksmith and his eldest had ever shared; it was simultaneously horrifying and perplexing. Peter melted happily into its embrace, even as his fur began to lose its color and the vibrant spark in his eyes faded.

From the other side of the Minotaur, Orvig let out a battle cry and, as Arthur watched, the Orc's sword was darted the distance, skewering the spider that kept the blacksmith from helping. With the way clear, the Human sprang to Peter's defense, war hammer leading the way. "Get off my son, you wretched THING!"

Moments before his weapon impacted its skull the creature turned his direction and, in that second, Arthur's entire world stopped: he was looking at Sabrina. She was alive? Was it possible? The spark of recognition shone in her gaze and she smiled at him. It was possible; there she was, and he could save her! They could be together again! His hand loosened its grip on the war hammer when he realized that his life would be complete. He didn't need the minotaur when he had her.

Something clicked in his mind; that WAS exactly what she always thought, and what she always told him. She never understood why he'd made his sons a part of their life. He had already chosen her time and time again over his sons. Never again. The enchantment broke as his will overpowered it and he saw the undead creature for what it was. His two strikes caved in it's skull, and its lifeless form dropped to the ground.

Harold walked up beside the blacksmith, kicking the corpse first before hitting it several times with his hand axe to be sure. The Gnoll then turned to his father, asking "So... what face did YOU see on it?"

Arthur was able to answer with truth "Nobody important."

Small wisps of glowing light slowly rose from the corpse, returning to Peter in a way that felt not only natural, but necessary. After a moment the Minotaur took a deep breath and then jumped with a start, as of being jolted awake. He glanced around the room then stepped up to the slain undead and kicked it twice, very hard; Arthur noticed that his son purposefully avoided his gaze. He then stated gruffly "We should go. Now."

Orvig opened the doors blocking the side passage to reveal the stairs up. Sun shone down from the top of the staircase through the destroyed roof of the warehouse, casting the entire passage in a surprising glow of color; at that point Arthur realized exactly what his sons meant and he took a moment to marvel in the difference between normal sight and the one magically gifted to him. A fresh shiver up his spine, however, ensured that he didn't linger very long. The party fled from the catacombs beneath the foundation of Traven Keep without looking back.

* * * * * *

Orvig led the way out of Traven Keep but, after about an hour, he turned the directions over to Harold, who had resolved to find them a safe place to spend the night. The group still hadn't discussed the next course of action but, by that point, everyone was so exhausted that Arthur didn't think it wise or worthwhile to push the issue. Instead, they made due with setting up camp. The strange knapsack that the smith had recovered from the storage room turned out to be incredibly useful in that regard as, among the items within it, he discovered that there were three tents.

Arthus sat down in the center of the campsite, bringing a ring of rocks together before pulling out the fire starting gear from within the knapsack. In addition to what he'd stowed in it and the three tents there was what appeared to be a full mess kit, complete with a pot, which the blacksmith put to good use; Lucas had taken several large fistfuls of the grains he'd discovered and that, accompanied by water from a nearby stream and a collection of seasonings from within the backpack made the base for a good meal.

Harold, who had stepped away once everyone started making camp, came back a short time after the fire had been lit, a slain young buck carried over his shoulder. As the Gnoll passed Peter, who was helping Orvig set up tents, the middle brother announced "Look. I got a deer, and you didn't get shot."

Peter snorted before offering his retort "Like I said-- different skills for hunting and combat archery."

Lucas sat closest to the fire as the tents were raised; the poor Kobold did not do so well in the early winter air and, unless Arthur was mistaken, it felt like it would snow. The blacksmith straightened up, flexing his leg; not long in the past it would hurt whenever the weather changed as well as before and after any precipitation. Glancing around the campsite at his three sons and their Orcish companion, he reflected again on how much things had changed, but he found himself strangely comfortable with change so long as his boys were with him.

Between the grains, the venison, and some wild tubers Harold had found the group ate surprisingly well. The warm meal seemed to do Lucas some good and the Kobold grew a little more lively, explaining his escape from the laboratory where he'd been held and 'experimented upon'. Lucas didn't go into much detail about what that last part included, but he did reiterate that, whatever Maeryk had done to him had awakened an arcane power that had, until that point, slumbered within him.

The hour was getting late and, Orvig segued into that thought quite smoothly. "Speaking of slumbering..."

Arthur took the hint. "It is getting late, boys, and we have a long hike ahead of us in the morning..."

Lucas, who was sitting almost next to the fire, had started shivering again. "Yeah... maybe getting into a nice, warm tent would be a good idea. It'll be warmer in the morning, right? At least, I hope so..."

Harold grunted, getting up after setting his bowl and spoon off to the side. "Come on, twirp... I'll join you. We don't have any blankets, so I'll keep you warm."

The Kobold hopped up from his position and skittered his way to the closest tent. "Thick fur blanket-- that works fine for me!"

Arthur looked up from the fire to Orvig; the Orc was gazing back across the flames toward him. The blacksmith moved a few stones and rearranged the coals so there would be something to help start it in the morning. "You're a nobleman's son, Orvig; Peter and I will share a tent and you can have one to yourself."

Although the Orc looked as though he was going to object, Orvig paused, glanced between the blacksmith and his son, then nodded. "In that case, I wish you a good night. Tomorrow morning we will need to consider our next move. If what Lucas said was accurate then we may want to head to the Wizard's College to get any help they could offer regarding a rogue mage. It may also be worthwhile to head to Draven; if Sir Wasker isn't aware of what's happened here then he should be informed and, considering there is a chance his lands may be at risk, sooner rather than later would be wise."

Arthur nodded. "We will discuss it in the morning. Good night, Orvig."

Offering a soft smile around his tusks in return, Orvig nodded his head. "Goodnight, Arthur. Thank you again."

The Human smiled as well. "And you."

Arthur headed to the final tent; it was the largest of the three, which was a good thing considering his tent-mate. Peter followed him in, kneeling down so his horns wouldn't hit the canvas above his head. The Minotaur began stowing his gear, arranging things neatly within the limited space available, doing just about anything he could to avoid the blacksmith's his gaze. It was time for that to end. "Peter. Look at me."

The Minotaur hesitantly raised his eyes, ears falling as he lowered his sword belt to the floor. "Y-yes, Father?"

The Human approached his eldest son and rested a hand on his shoulder. "I wasn't asking for anything other than your attention. Look at me."

Peter did so and, when he did, the words began pouring out. The Minotaur explained what he saw back in the cellar; the undead was in his mind, and played him like a puppet. There were so many thoughts going on in his head, and there was this vision of Arthur, approaching him invitingly. Eventually his gaze fell again. "I know you would not reproach me openly, but I know you must feel let down in how I composed myself... just know that your disappointment in me is dwarfed by my own."

The dampness around his son's eyes very nearly broke Arthur's heart. Cradling Peter's head in his hands, the blacksmith raised it so he could look Peter in the eye. "Peter... I don't care about that... any of that."

The Minotaur's head raised on its own as he was taken aback. "But... I was such a fool! I gave no thought into it, and such things are not the way a Paladin should act! I--"

Arthur cut him off, leaning forward so he could keep both hands on his son's shoulders. "Peter. Enough. You weren't the only one who had been charmed. Harold was fooled into being unable to shoot it, and I-- I... had my own shortcomings."

Peter let out a loud sigh and leaned forward again, making it easier for Arthur to stay in contact. The large Minotaur laid his chin atop Arthur's head, something he'd stopped doing in his early teenage years; it made the blacksmith smile. Even as the two sat there he could tell that Peter was still tense and, eventually, his son explained. "Harold eventually shot it... you overcame its bewitchment. I had to be saved."

Arthur chuckled softly, pulling back so he could look his son in the eye. When Peter lowered his muzzle so they could meet gazes, the blacksmith raised his chin slightly so he could kiss the Minotaur on his broad, pink nose. "Everyone needs to be saved occasionally, Peter... we're family. We don't keep track. We don't keep count. We are in this together. Always."

He had seen his son in a funk before; Peter was a kind, sensitive soul and he didn't usually recover easily. Regardless, Arthur was not content to let him dwell in the dark emotional place forever. What surprised him, however, was Peter's next action, which was to gently slide a large, furred hand around the back of the blacksmith's head. A moment later, the Minotaur slowly pulled him close again, but this time it was for a kiss. What probably surprised Arthur the MOST, however, was that he didn't resist his son's silent supplication.

The blacksmith had kissed his sons before; he'd always been liberal and open with his love for them, but the kiss initiated by Peter was something different; it was something... more. There was almost a desperation to it, and a hunger. The Minotaur, however, did not overburden him with either, still somehow restrained and respectful of his father, but hinting with the slightest movement of his thick lips or the soft caress of his wide bovine tongue against the Human's that he wanted far more than he was willing to take without permission.

Arthur couldn't explain why his heart was beating so quickly, or why he didn't feel the same restraint and distance that he did when his son was just as close a scant few days back in their home, but it was different... it was all different, and the blacksmith was awash with different feelings and emotions that he couldn't push thoughts past. Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, yet also far too short a time, Peter willfully but reluctantly disengaged. The Minotaur whispered breathlessly "I've wanted to do that... forever."

Taking in a breath of his own, a moment's clarity finally got into Arthur's brain as he sat, staring across the short distance to his elest son, who sat likewise, staring right back, although the Minotaur seemed to be holding his breath again. The Human smiled, reaching up to rest a hand against his son's fuzzy muzzle. Peter closed his eyes, pressing his head into the touch and, slowly, Arthur took the initiative, leaning forward to kiss his beloved boy for their second kiss.

A soft, contented 'moo'-like sound emerged through Peter's nose, and the two disengaged; the Human started chuckling, and the Minotaur quickly followed suit. Eventually, once they calmed down, Peter looked at him, ears red as he confessed. "I love you dad... so much... and in so many ways. T-there isn't just any one thing you mean to me. You're my whole world."

They exchanged a deep embrace after that and, ultimately, they moved into a more comfortable position. Arthur sat with his legs crossed, Peter's head resting in his lap. The blacksmith stroked his son's mane, smiling down at his eldest and the confession. He had one of his own. "Peter... when I went to save you that thing turned to me... and I saw Sabrina."

The Minotaur tensed up immediately then gritting his teeth, looked up at his father. "I--"

Arthur forestalled any statement. "No, Peter... just listen. I do not know where the future will take us, but I know we will get there together... all of us. What I can say for certain is that nothing will come between us; I am done denying that the three of you are my world, and not even the memory of Sabrina will change that— if anything, it will only strengthen it."

The blacksmith and his eldest shared another kiss; it was calm, gentle, and loving. They continued talking well into the night. When they eventually did fall asleep, Arthur did so in his son's arms, far warmer than he ever thought possible. Some time before he slipped into the blissful land of dreams he remembered thinking that he finally understood why his three sons always slept together; he couldn't recall ever having been so content.